


Eventuality

by The_Heart_of_Leo



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Forced Touch Starvation, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Love Potion used as threat, M/M, Possessive Gellert Grindelwald, Possessiveness, Threatening of children, mentioned torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-19 01:37:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Heart_of_Leo/pseuds/The_Heart_of_Leo
Summary: Albus has been captured and Gellert tries to make him see reason.





	1. Chapter 1

As far as prison cells go, Gellert had out-done himself.

From what little Albus could see of his surroundings, the room was spacious, comfortable, and if the curtains were open, he was sure the sun would fill the room with a warm, lovely light. As it was, even with the curtains drawn, the dim light of the room was still enough to hurt his eyes. The bed was almost unbearably soft and he was sure the rest of the furniture would prove to be the same.

He wondered if the mattress was made soft or if Gellert had charmed it so. Either way, it did little to ease the deep ache of his body, his muscles sore and overworked from the convulsions caused by too many applications of the Cruciatus Curse by an overly eager underling hoping to impress their master.

He could still see the flash of green light as Gellert avenged his torture, ignoring Albus's, albeit weak and semi-conscious, protests. He wasn't foolish enough to think Gellert's murder had just been for his sake – he had to remind his followers of their oath of obedience to him and that breaking from the path, no matter the intentions, had consequences.

The man had been one of Albus's former students, graduated years and years ago. 

Yet another dash of salt in a long history of wounds.

“I would not move if I were you.” The voice was agonizingly familiar, even though it had been decades since he had last heard that voice with his own ears. He didn't need to open his eyes to see who spoke to him.

“If you were me quite a few things would be different.” Talking hurt more than he thought it would, his throat still ripped raw from screaming. “And a moot point besides,” he added, giving his wrist a tiny tug to rattle the chain looped around his wrist.

“A precaution.” The bed dipped beside him.

“Along with the theft of my wand?”

“Only a fool would leave a wand in your possession,” the voice said, amused and fond. “Not that you need one if you have your mind set on something.”

Albus slowly opened his eyes, forcing himself not flinch at the dim light. Gellert smiled down at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement... they still crinkled, just like before... The reminder was almost as painful as the curses he had endured.

“What have you done?” His voice cracked over the question. Chained to a bed and wandless... they both knew that would not keep either of them down, not for long. 

“I've done nothing,” Gellert assured him, a look of faux innocent crossing his face. He used to find it so charming, the teasing look that suggested that any wrongdoing was meant to be harmless. There was hardness to it now. “Whether it stays that way is up to you.”

Albus closed his eyes, letting his mind work without the distraction of his one and only love watching him. 

“Hostages?” he finally asked, looking up. “Who?”

Gellert shrugged, deceptively nonchalant. “If someone like Turpin can infiltrate your little hideaway...”

And there it was.

“They're students, Gellert,” Albus started to shake his head but stopped when his head screamed in agony. “They're innocent...”

“We both know how irrelevant that is.” Gellert reached out, his hand hovering just over Albus's temple, pausing as Albus flinched away then flinched in pain. The fingers came down, gently brushing the short hair behind his ear. “Your hair is so short now...”

“Don't.”

Albus wasn't entirely sure what he meant by the word when it counted for so many things. 'Don't touch me', 'Don't hurt the innocent people caught between them', 'Don't continue this war', Don't... don't... don't...

Gellert leaned down and pressed a kiss to Albus's forehead, the gesture tender enough to almost be loving.

“This won't be for long,” Gellert muttered, his breath and lips fluttering against Albus's skin like so many butterflies. “When I – we – win, there will be no need for this charade, no need to fight anymore. All boundaries between us, all the walls put around us and put up by us... they won't matter in the end.”

Albus closed his eyes and let the idea play around his head like it used to when he was still so very young. No need to hide – not their magic, not their relationship, not anything. Freedom and power and love... just at the expense of everything else.

“This isn't about us, Gellert. It never was. All our talk of freedom and power and... the 'greater good'? It was the talk of children, convinced the world was wrong and that only they could fix it. We were blind, Gellert, and the world slapped us in the face because of it.” Albus could see it so clearly, even now. Standing in that barn, whispering words of love, triumph, loyalty. He could feel the sting of a wand trailing down his palm, drawing blood and mixing that blood together so that a physical object, proof of their commitment, was brought into being. Back then, their talk of ruling didn't seem so heinous, the 'necessary' deaths just an imaginary game no different than playing with so many toys. Death, despite being a familiar companion in the Dumbledore family, was just a far-off concept that didn't belong in their self-centered world.

“You might have been blind to what was needed,” Gellert said, stiffly, “but I was not. It was always going to be war, Albus.”

“And if you win this war, I'll never forgive you.” The other man's expression darkened further.

“I don't need your _forgiveness_ ,” he all but spat the word. 

“Then what do you need of me?” Albus asked, meeting the other man's mismatched gaze. “You must know I'll fight you on this. Until my last breath if I must. Why keep me alive?”

Gellert didn't say anything for a moment but the fingers in Albus's hair started to card through the short strands as though petting a cat just on the edge of becoming feral.

“Because you're mine.” With that, a smile spread over Gellert's mouth before the hand that was in Albus's hair swooped down to grab his chin, holding him in place. The kiss Gellert gave him was hard, demanding, possessive and something Albus had tried not to miss for the last thirty years. It took all he had not to give in, not to press up into the kiss, not to return it with equal fervor. Instead, he pulled back as far his body would let him.

“No, Gellert.”

The words hung heavy over them, as though they had a magic all their own, as though a dementor had somehow been summoned by them, sucking out the happy memories that had threatened their present.

Gellert suddenly stood, rocking the bed and making Albus wince in pain as his sore body was jostled. 

“You'll see things my way,” Gellert promised him, his voice low and insultingly confident. “Eventually.”

With that, he turned and walked away, into the shadows of the room and out of Albus's line of sight. He heard the creak of a door open and close, leaving him alone in his comfortable new prison.

Albus closed his eyes and tried to force his body to relax, to let his muscles recover from the torture he endured, to convince his body that it couldn't have the things it wanted. 

The lines have been drawn. Gellert has made his moves and was, no doubt, working to tighten the snare already around Albus, working to keep the only person in the world with the power to stop him from doing just that.

As his body started to give way to sleep and to healing, Albus pushed aside the memory of childhood love, the desire Gellert still awoke in him. Love was the most powerful force on Earth, he truly believed that...

And it was going to be the death of one of them.

Eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gellert plays a game Albus isn't sure he can win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'ed. Will fix any typos later.

There was a large plate of food waiting on the small coffee table by the fire. The meal was simple but large – bread, roasted meat and vegetables, and a pitcher of water as well as a glass to drink it from. It was meant to last him the day.

Albus saw no one deliver the food but it was always there by the time he woke up in the morning. He considered staying up to try and catch his caretaker but decided it was a wasted effort.

He knew who it was.

It took a few days for him to completely recover from the extended torture, his body too sore to move much, but the first thing he did was test out the chain looped around his wrist. As far as restraints go, it wasn't very restrictive. The chain elongated to allow him practically free roam of his cell – more a guest suite really – and the links were enchanted to never tangle. The only time they stopped his movement was if he moved too close to the door.

And thus, his routine was set.

He'd wake, examine his meal for the day, ignore it for most of said day, and venture around his room. More often than not, he ended up sitting in the chair facing the window, admiring the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the fortress he found himself in.

That lasted, by his estimate, for two weeks.

He knew what Gellert was doing. The man had known him at his lowest point, had whispered secrets into each other's ears, had trusted each other with their greatest of weaknesses.

Albus might not have been a tactile person by any means, he didn't need to touch or be touched to be happy, but isolation, both physical and mental, were abhorrent.

He had been so lonely when Gellert had come into his life to save him from the trappings of a family he was foolish enough to see as a burden.

Gellert knew what game to be playing. The question was who would break the rules first, Albus or Gellert.

On the first day of the third week, his daily meal was accompanied by a book.

The cover was worn and plainly bound in brown leather with no title or author but it only took a quick glance at the contents to know what it was.

Alfred Tennyson, a muggle poet and Lord. A man who's poems carried with them the undying grief of losing one of his closest friends when they were both young men.

Gellert had always been a fan of poetry, wizard and muggle alike.

Albus set the book down and didn't pick it up again for another five days.

In the middle of the sixth week of Albus's imprisonment, without only the single book to keep his mind occupied, another addition to his morning gifts appeared.

The decanter was made of crystal, putting the mother-of-pearl sheen of the potion on display.

He was ashamed of how he had recoiled at the sight of it. The decanter was sat beside the water pitcher and glass, as though it were an offering of wine to go with his meal. He knew if he pulled off the teardrop stopper he would smell the distinct scent of parchment, hay, and wood-smoke.

Tied to the slender neck of the potion bottle was a note:

_Tis not too late to seek a newer world_

It was, in Gellert's own twisted way, a peace offering – a way to spare Albus's dignity and morals, a solution to all of Gellert's problems.

Albus ignored the decanter. He took his food – there was no need to check to see if it had been spiked – and took it to the table by the window overlooking the mountains.

The decanter was a new constant with his morning deliveries, the only thing changing being the note attached.

Sometimes the notes plead with him: _Is your pride so important to you?”_

Some are more poetry: _He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.”_

And some are just meant to tug at the string that ties their hearts together: _I miss you_

When Gellert finally shows himself again, Albus has lost count of how many days, weeks, months have passed.

The door opens with a creak, the first time Albus had ever heard it do so. He looks away from the window where he stood, admiring the rarely-changing view. He saw the white of Gellert's hair, the mismatched eyes, and took a step, then another to face the other man.

It was as far as he got.

The other man crossed the room in an instant, grabbing Albus by the shoulders to press him into the wall. The kiss was hard, demanding, hungry, and utterly returned. The feel of lips on his own, of hands touching his shoulders, of a body pressed against his own...

Gellert's game had worked far better than he had anticipated.

The kiss broke with a gasp and, for a moment, Albus almost pulled his ex-lover back to continue it. Instead, the other man's mouth moved from his mouth down to his neck. He gasps as Gellert's knee slips between his legs, pressing up in such a way that always drove Albus's to complete and utter devastation.

“Take the potion,” Gellert said, his breath hot against the overly-sensitive skin just under Albus's ear. “You'll be blameless and we can have this again.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. “To hell with your pride.”

“It's not my pride that's the problem,” Albus said, his fingers digging into Gellert's waist, either steadying himself or keeping the other close.

“It is,” Gellert insists, a hand reaching up to grab the now-longer hair at the nape of Albus's neck, pulling his head back and drawing something that could have been a moan from his lips. “Come back to me, Albus.”

Albus closed his eyes and tried to fight back the pounding of his heart, the screaming yearning of his blood through his skin, and the memories of one distant summer that was never too far away.

“I'm not the one who left.”

Gellert stilled for a moment, the grip in Albus's hair tightening as the words sank in. After a moment, the man returned to pressing biting kisses to Albus's throat, working his way back up to his mouth.

“Drink the potion,” he said, the calm of his voice doing nothing to hide the demand in the request.

“No.”

Gellert pressed a kiss to his mouth before saying: “I can make you.”

“But you won't.”

For a moment, nothing happened. They were frozen in a moment of time, Gellert holding him against the wall in an embrace that bordered on obscene. Finally, the man pulled away from Albus. The look on the handsome but worn face was cold, unforgiving.

The chain on Albus's wrist came to life, yanking hard enough to make him stumble as it reeled him into toward the bed. He tried to fight the pull, as useless as it was, until his knees hit the bed, sending him sprawling into an undignified heap onto it before dragging him across up to the headboard where the chain was anchored.

He heard the chink of crystal against crystal. He turned and saw the decanter in Gellert's hand, the teardrop stopper in the other.

“It'd be for your own good,” Gellert said, taking a step forward.

“The greater good?” Albus scoffed.

“My good.”

Gellert made it to the bed and stood over him. Determination was etched deep into the lines of his face, so much so that Albus felt it in his heart.

He stopped fighting, letting his body fall back onto the mattress, not relaxed but pliant. There was no way he could fight Gellert, not physically.

“Gellert... you want this even less than I do.”

The dark wizard's grip on the bottle tightened as their eyes met and held. After a moment that felt like all the months of Albus's captivity, Gellert put the stopper back in place and set the decanter down on the bedside table.

“Damn you, Albus,” he said, soft and sad. “Damn you to hell.”

Without another word, the man turned and left. The door clicked shut and locked. The chain around his wrist loosened.

Albus sat up slowly and, unable to stop the trembling in his hands, looked over to the Amortentia potion and knew it would never leave his room. Even if he destroyed it, a new one will take its place. How long until Gellert's patience waned again? He wanted Albus by his side but, more than that, he wanted Albus's submission, his surrender.

Would it be so bad?

He could curb Gellert's more violent tendencies, could be a voice of compassion and sympathy while they worked to join two worlds that had been separated for far too long...

But that wasn't what Gellert wanted and it wasn't something Albus was capable of.

Albus clasped his hands between his knees and in the back of his mind, the sand of an hourglass was starting to descend and, when it was out, he didn't know if it signified his death or complete destruction of himself.

Calmly, he stood, picked up the decanter, and took it over to the fire. He set the bottle on the mantle over the flames. He went back over to the windows and looked out over snow-capped mountains that had barely changed.


End file.
